


The Roots of Hate

by Ladyanaconda



Series: Tears of Despair and Joy [13]
Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff, Gen, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:42:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyanaconda/pseuds/Ladyanaconda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marigold is loved and well-liked in the Land of the Remembered, but even there a few families resent her existence due to La Muerte's death when she was born. As she suffers the first attempt at her life, Xibalba will do his best to protect her, but if he couldn't save her from getting hurt the first time, how will he protect her if it ever happens again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roots of Hate

When Marigold was born, La Muerte died having her, and all who knew her had different reactions at the heart-wrenching news.

Xibalba was grief-stricken and inconsolable, to the point he blamed Marigold for the tragedy, but after a few days, when he held her in his arms for the first time, he didn’t know how but she had taken over his heart. She became the light of his life; she was his baby girl, his dearest pride and joy, his most cherished treasure, and the living memento of the love he and his Muertita once shared.

The entire pantheon was bewildered that such a strong woman as La Muerte couldn’t endure childbirth. Everyone felt sad for Xibalba, but overall for Marigold. She would have to grow up without a mother, and though they were relieved that Xibalba had come to his senses and adored her like he never adored anyone else (except his wife), they knew as much as he loved his daughter, it wouldn’t fill the void in her heart she would eventually feel for her mother’s absence. _Pobrecita_. A mother’s love could never be replaced.

All inhabitants of the Land of the Remembered wept and cried for the loss of their beloved Queen. When the news of her death spread out like gunpowder, all fiestas ceased, the music died out and was replaced with mournful wails and cries. They dreaded the fact that, with La Muerte gone, they were now at Xibalba’s mercy. In Marigold, however, everyone saw their Queen reborn, La Muerte’s last gift to her subjects. For three years, since Xibalba took his newborn daughter to his kingdom, they heard nothing from their Princess, and feared for her safety, they didn’t imagine such a cruel god as Xibalba acting like a doting father, especially because of the circumstances of La Muerte’s passing.

How wrong they were.

Three years later after Marigold’s birth, Xibalba returned with his daughter, and the inhabitants of the Land of the Remembered were astonished to see that Marigold had grown into a lovely, sweet and innocent little girl. The first time she ever came, she clung to her father the whole time, until Carmen Sánchez managed to coax her into coming to take a look at the Land of the Remembered while Xibalba stayed behind at the castle and caught up with the work that had accumulated those three years. As time went on, Marigold had earned the love and affection of all the inhabitants of the Land of the Remembered, and they’d receive her warmly everytime she and her father came up.

But unfortunately, there was also a small percentage, tiny, that could only see Marigold as the one responsible for the death of their beloved Queen, and Xibalba getting control of the realm. The dark god had changed various things when he took over, and though most of those changes had little effects on their lifestyle, and a few even turned out to be beneficial, these spirits still resented the fact that Xibalba was in charge now. And whom did they blame for it? Poor little Marigold.

At first these families simply avoided interacting with the Princess, they couldn’t bear watching how the rest of the inhabitants of the colorful realm treated her so nicely and with adoration like she were La Muerte herself, how they didn’t realize the girl was the one who killed La Muerte. With time, this resentment grew, to the point a few clans tried to harm her, and find a way to avenge La Muerte.

Naturally, when Xibalba found out about this, he was less than pleased. Now not only he had to worry about taking care of his late wife’s kingdom, but now he’d also have to worry for his beloved child’s wellbeing and safety now that a minority of clans turned out to be resentful at her for something that was not her fault. Immediately after he was informed of these rogue clans, Xibalba was wary in letting his daughter go out by herself wherever they were in the Land of the Remembered; even when she was with the Sánchez family, she was escorted by guards every single minute, though Xibalba ordered them to be subtle to avoid making Marigold nervous. She did not know about those clans who wanted her gone, and he thought it would be best she didn’t find out, he didn’t want her to have any bad memories from her mother’s realm.

Sighing tiredly, Xibalba walked into his late wife’s study to resume the previously stalled paperwork due to other business he had to tend to, like meeting with the recently-formed Elder Council to approve new suggestions or laws or not, granting audiences to the newly-arrived spirits and help them find their respective bloodlines (by sending them to the Elder Council, since he didn’t like ‘wasting time’ on it), and keeping count of how many arrived, as well as how many were forgotten and had to be sent down to his realm before they lost their minds for everyone’s safety.

What a _long_ day.

After about twenty minutes of reading and signing papers, there was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Xibalba spoke out loud, not removing his gaze off his work.

One of the guards he had sent to escort Marigold and Carmen opened the door and walked in, giving the god the respectful bow. “Majesty, your daughter is back.”

Finally good news. Xibalba lifted his eyes from the papers to look at the guard. “Did anything happen?”

“No, my lord. Thankfully, we found no suspicious activity today. Everything went on as usual.”

“Good. Where is my daughter?”

“In her room.”

Placing the quill back on the inkwell for the time being, Xibalba stood up from his chair and wordlessly dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand, heading towards Marigold’s room. After such a long day he wouldn’t be surprised if she was already in bed, though knowing his daughter she was probably waiting for him to come and kiss her goodnight.

When he opened the door, Marigold was just climbing up on bed with her flowery pink pajama on, like he assumed. When the six-year-old child noted her father was in the doorway, her face lit up with a smile. “Papi!”

Smiling, Xibalba walked closer to bed and sat down at the edge, ruffling his daughter’s hair playfully. “How are you doing, _mi florecita_? What did you do today?”

“Auntie Carmen took me to the _plaza de toros_! It was amazing! I didn’t know bulls knew so many tricks!”

“Those animals are smarter than they seem, my sweet, but they’re still dangerous. But I’m glad you had fun.”

“Too bad you missed it, papi. You would have loved it.”

“I know, _mi florecita_ , but I have work to do around here. You know… But the next time I’ll take you myself.”

“You promise?”

“ _Te lo prometo_.” He noted Marigold was letting out yawns every few seconds. “Okay, now go to sleep, my dear. It’s past your bedtime.”

Marigold fought to keep her eyelids open. “But I’m not tired…” she whined, letting out another yawn.

Xibalba chuckled as he pulled the blanket up to tuck his daughter in bed. “Yes, you are.”

“No, papi…” Those were her last words before she fell asleep, snuggling deeper into bed. Xibalba bent own and planted a kiss on her forehead, brushing a few hairs from her face.

“ _Buenas noches, mi pequeña_.”

Silently, he walked towards the door, and before walking out he gently turned off the lights to a dim glow with a wave of his hand, glancing at his daughter with a small smile and closing the door shut behind him silently.

Time passed.

The girl slept. Turned in bed. She heard the maids, their voices low and sounding tense. There was another tense voice. A door creaking open. The sound of their footsteps retreating. Marigold woke up, tried to go back to sleep. She shifted in bed. Frustrated, the godling raised her head.

Someone was staring at her form across the room. A spirit’s bright golden eyes.

It happened very fast-those eyes rushed towards her, and Marigold bundled up her blankets and pillows in front of her protectively, ducking and scrambling back, wrapping her wings around herself protectively. Marigold was knocked over still, she felt the wind knocked out of her, felt something hard-it snagged on the bundled covering of blankets and pillows- but not deeply, it didn’t feel deep-the attacker hissed as something else crashed into him, and then tossed him away, a sword slipping out of his side. Adelita, her sword tipped in red, carried Marigold away as Scardelita and the guards streaked by her and fell upon the spirit, his side leaking.

Marigold blinked. She felt funny. Yet she knew this wasn’t a dream.

Adelita tore a nearby curtain and bundled it around Marigold. The godling glanced down, and saw red bleed through. She coughed out red too. Marigold lair her head against the spirit’s shoulder.

“MARIGOLD!”

She heard her father’s alarmed and terrified voice, and soon she felt his shadow over him. Xibalba was utterly horrified when he saw his child bleeding, and instantly feared for her life. The dark god kneeled down and placed his hand on Marigold’s forehead; she was shivering.

“Papi, I’m cold…” she whispered, breathing heavily.

“Shhh, it’s okay, _mijita_. It’ll be over soon, hang on.” Xibalba whispered into her ear, placing his hand unto her wound, but quickly removed it when she flinched in pain. He directed his next swords at Adelita. “What happened?!”

“An assassin snuck into her room and nearly killed her, I think that’s quite obvious, tar head!” Adelita retorted in a hurry.

Normally he would have turned anyone who dared to speak to him like that into dust, but now was not the moment. “Take her to the physician! NOW!”

With those words, Xibalba flew towards Marigold’s room to deal with the assassin personally; he would make him pay for daring to hurt his baby. He slammed the doors open, and found the guards and Scardelita inside. “WHERE IS THE BASTARD?!”

The assassin trembled in fear, true terror as Xibalba approached, his wings flared out, his teeth sharp and his claws unsheathed but the guards’ hold was too strong, and he was frozen in fear. Heck, even the guards and Scardelita nearly jumped when he practically roared the question.

When his reddened skull pupils set on the assassin, Xibalba grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. “Who sent you?” he hissed in a low voice, like a serpent.

The spirit didn’t have the guts to even stutter a reply.

“I asked you a question, _bastardo_. Either you tell me who sent you, or I’ll personally torture you until you spill the beans!” When he got no reaction other than frightened whimpers, he realized he would not talk, he’d have to use his Soul Gaze. Xibalba rotated his pupils forward, and gazed into the assassin’s mind, looking for a name.

When he was done, he dropped the assassin to the ground and turned towards the captain of the guard. Xibalba growled deeply. “Bring the head of the Nárvaez family before me.”

* * *

The maids made her ear lots and lots of vegetables, and soup, water, and occasionally some of her favorite dishes to cheer her up. Luckily the wound had not been so deep, but Marigold had to consume lots of medicines and herbs sent by Toci and Itzamna. Marigold overheard the maids, her eyes closed, trying to rest but feigning at the same time.

“…The Nárvaez family hired the assassin?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it, they had a stainless reputation. What happened to them?”

“What do you think? Lord Xibalba had them executed along with the assassin-“

“Executed? We’re dead, how did he execute them? Did he send them to his realm?”

“No, it was much worse. He sent them to the Land of the Cursed.”

“Cursed?” a gasp of dread and shock escaped the maid’s lips. “Is that the place where-?”

“Yes.”

“And the younger ones? There were children in that family! Did they get banished too?!”

“No. Lord Xibalba was quite merciful with them, if you ask me. He allowed them to stay in this realm, but he made them clear that he didn’t want them near Princess Marigold.”

Marigold’s eyes were still closed, though she squeezed them tighter.

“Is this a warning?”

“What do you think?”

“I can’t believe anyone would try to harm Princess Marigold. She’s such a sweet little girl, I would never wish any harm on her.”

“Me neither. She’s all we’ll ever have left of Lady La Muerte.”

“We should change her bandages.”

Marigold made sure to sound sufficiently asleep, mumbling words, as if she were dreaming when they changed her bandages.

* * *

Now, this was not precisely his best day. When he went to check on his daughter and found her sinking into her pillows and blankets, the bandages contrasting roughly with her lovely sugary skin, his heart broke and his stomach churned. She was so young.

Still, Xibalba had no option but to sit down with Marigold, and explained there were some people that wanted to harm her, because they thought she was responsible for her mother’s death. He couldn’t figure out how to explain to his six-year-old that they wanted her dead, thinking it would somehow avenge La Muerte. How he wished she were here, she would have known what to do.

He _did_ tell her that the culprits were taken care of and she was safe now. Xibalba couldn’t figure out how he should specify what he meant with ‘taken care of’. Or how he should make explicit that this may not be the last attempt on her life. The dark god wasn’t sure of what to make of his daughter’s silence. She didn’t ask any questions, she simply absorbed the information. Marigold shot him a few odd glances, but nothing more.

That same night, during her uncle Zipacna’s visit, Marigold learned one of the servants had called for him, asking for his help, told him it was an emergency but couldn’t explain further. He just needed him right away he had to show him.

Zipacna’d gone, thinking it wouldn’t take that long. But when one of the guards passed by and the servant looked beyond anxious, the caiman-headed god returned, seized by a feeling in his gut, he had this thing for figuring things out. Zipacna had taken the suspicious servant to his brother to be interrogated, and it turned out the servant had been hired by the assassins to provide a distraction. He too was banished to the Land of the Cursed.

* * *

After that day, Xibalba rarely left his daughter’s side. But when he had to resume working, he had guards posted outside Marigold’s room with orders not to let any strangers in. In a few more days they’d return to the Land of the Forgotten, and she’d be safe, but until then he had to be wary. Xibalba would go to Marigold’s room when he was done working and stay with her afterward, even if she was already asleep, he’d sleep at her side, and Marigold would wake up to find herself in the warm, protective arms of her father.

The next day, he walked into the room to check on his daughter; surely, it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time with her to make sure she was okay. He found Marigold on bed eating some pizza-that Italian dish had become one of her favorites- while the maids were cleaning up the room.

Xibalba glanced down at the servants. “Leave us.”

Giving their King the correspondent bow, the maids walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his daughter. Xibalba sat down at the edge of the bed, ruffling Marigold’s hair playfully with a small smile. “How are you feeling, _mi florecita_?”

“I’m okay, papi, really…” Marigold replied, taking a bite of her pizza slice. She still sounded a bit tired. “I’m bored.”

“When you get better we’ll go to our place to have a picnic, does that sound good?”

“Yay!”

Xibalba chuckled at his baby’s enthusiasm, but when his eyes set on her bandages his stomach churned and his heart skipped a beat as he felt a pang of guilt. Unfortunately, Marigold noticed.

“Papi?” she inquired, grabbing his larger hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s just…” Xibalba sighed regretfully. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that assassin…”

“It was not your fault, papi.”

“If I had not left you, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“You couldn’t have known that mean spirit would come.”

At those words, Xibalba felt his heart twisting in his chest once more. He could have predicted that any of the few families that hated Marigold for simply existing would try to do something like this, but he chose to hope it wouldn’t happen. He could have warned his little one to be careful when she was by herself, but she didn’t even know about it until her attempted murder. What would he do if he could not protect his child? He couldn’t even look at her right now; he was too ashamed of himself. He clutched unto the blankets while looking down at the floor.

“Marigold, I’m your father. My duty is to protect you and keep you safe from harm, but I because I failed to do so you’re hurt.” Xibalba glanced back at his child and stroked her cheek with a sad smile. “You’re all I have, Marigold. I wouldn’t bear if something happened to you. I promised your mami I’d always protect you.”

“I know, papi. But you shouldn’t blame yourself over something that couldn’t have been avoided. I don’t blame you for what happened, papi, I love you.”

Xibalba smiled and bent down to plant a kiss on his baby’s forehead. “Thanks, my sweet.”

Marigold held out one of her pizza slices to her father. “Here, you must be hungry.”

The dark god chuckled as he accepted the triangular-shaped slice of the dish with a hand. The smell of the molten cheese mixed with the pepperoni and mushrooms made his mouth water; he had never tasted this dish before, he was not precisely fond of foods with too much cheese. But he didn’t want to disappoint his daughter, and so he tentatively took a bit form the slice. It was burning hot, though not enough to burn his tongue, and there was a party of flavors in his mouth as he chewed and swallowed the pizza.

“It’s delicious.” He grinned, licking his lips. His heart leapt in joy when he saw his daughter’s face brightening up with joy.

“Do you want some more, papi?”

“Sure thing, sweetie. I think I won’t hurt if I stay with you for a few hours.”

Besides, these days he hadn’t been able to spend much time with her, had he?


End file.
